Anderstrade
by Manifest My Destiny
Summary: A story following the ups and downs of Anderson and Lestrade's 'frienemy' relationship.
1. Chapter 1

"Twitter?" said Anderson "In like what birds do?"

"For god's sake, Anderson, just get on and create an account!" replied Lestrade, a slight annoyance creeping into his tone of voice for having to deal with Anderson's stupidity.

"Name: A-n-d-e-r-s-o-n" Anderson muttered under his breath as he filled in the account information. "Right. Username…um…Lestrade…"

"What now you blithering idiot?" Said Lestrade sighing and rubbing his eyes, "Don't you know your own email address?"

"What should my username be?"

"I don't know! Why ask me? Come up with it yourself!" Lestrade cried, infuriated, his voice echoing around the empty office. "You can tell your IQ is the lowest on the force…" he muttered returning to creating his own account.

"IQ…IQ…" pondered Anderson, "I've got it!" he said rapidly tapping the noisily clicking keyboard.

"What is it? LowIQAnderson?" said Lestrade with a smirk

"But the opposite," replied Anderson "HighIQAnderson" Lestrade snorted. But Anderson, unphased by this response, carried on happily."I wonder how many followers I'll get? Do you think I will be able to get as many as Justin Bieber? Maybe I could…" Anderson leapt out of him chair causing Lestrade to spill his coffee into his lap. "I know! I can start up a little fan army for me called 'Anderson's Army'! That'll show Sherlock who's really the most popular!" Anderson grinned madly at his sudden stroke of genius. Lestrade thought otherwise but decided against expressing these oppinion.

"Yeah, you go Andy…" Lestrade mumbled trying to sound enthusiastic whilst frantically mopping up the spilt drink. Anderson returned to his chair and squinted at the computer screen.

"Look! I have '1 follower' already!" said Anderson pointing excitedly at the screen, "I'm on my way to popularity!"

"Anderson, that's me."


	2. Chapter 2

Lestrade noisily unlocked the door to his office, his head still banging from the previous night. He set his briefcase down on his desk and gasped in fright to see that he was not alone.

"Anderson! What the Hell are you doing here?"

Anderson looked up from the computer screen. "Oh hey, Greggy." He smiled

"Greggy?" Lestrade replied in surprise. "I'm your bloody boss! It's Sir to you. Anyway, it's 7.30am, you're not supposed to be in until 9am? Sally finishes your floors early?" Lestrade smirked at his own wit. Anderson, however, decided to ignore the comment.

"Oh, you know, just checking my Twitter. I've got over 200 followers already!" he grinned, somewhat manically. Lestrade sighed and slumped down into his chair.

"Look, I don't care, OK? You're here to work, not to connect with your so called 'fan club'." He chuckled to himself and switched on his computer; his Twitter loaded up already. Anderson appeared behind him and peered over his shoulder.

"Oooh, look!" Lestrade jumped. "You have a DM!"

"A what?" replied Lestrade, his voice full of confusion.

"A DM…it stands for Direct Message" Anderson stated as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "Look, click there." He pointed to the top right hand corner of Lestrade's computer screen. Silence blanketed the room as both men waited for the page to load…


	3. Chapter 3

Lestrade drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk as the page slowly loaded up.

"We seriously need to sort out the internet here, I don't know how they expect us to solve crimes when we've got to wait for half a bloody hour for a web page to load!" Lestrade moaned. As he said that, the page did load up. It displayed: ERROR: Twitter has over capacitated, please try again later.

"For fuck's sake!" Lestrade cried slamming his fist down on the table making Anderson jump. "Why can't I just have one thing go right for me, Anderson, why can't I!" he burrowed his head in his hands as his shoulders start to shake with fury. Anderson, shocked with the current situation gingerly patted him on the back.

"It's alright Greg…"

"No, Anderson." Lestrade interrupted "It's not alright! I have a seriously bad hangover, I've got to spend the day with you and now my Twitter won't work!" Anderson, still patting Lestrade's back, retracted his hand quickly, frowning.

"What's wrong with spending the day with me?" He asked in a hurt voice. Lestrade looked up.

"Are you asking that question in a serious light?"

"Of course I am. Who wouldn't want to spend the day with me?" Lestrade pauses for a minute before replying.

"Your wife, Sherlock, most of the guys here, me…"

"Alright, alright!" Anderson cut in "I get the picture…" he scowled, turned and walked back to his own desk. "At least Andersons Army loves me" he muttered to himself. Lestrade, having heard the statement, turned round.

"You do realise, Andy, that most of your followers are just there to take the piss out of you. Like me for example." He laughed.

"Oh shut up, Greg."


	4. Chapter 4

Lestrade looked up as his office door slowly creaked open and let out an exasperated sigh as Anderson's face appeared in the gap.

"You _again_?" Lestrade groaned, Anderson grinned and proceeded into the office.

"Yep, me again," he said, wandering around Lestrade's office, touching the odd ornament on the desk as he walks past it.

"Don't touch that," Lestrade said, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. Anderson; ignoring him, picked up a teddy which sat on the desk and examined it. It bore "Bring Me Coffee" on the tiny t-shirt it had on. "Present from Sherlock" Lestrade stated. Immediately, Anderson dropped the toy back on to the surface and rubbed his hand off on his trousers; as if it was somewhat unclean. Lestrade chucked at Anderson's disgusted facial expression. "Only joking; it was from the wife,"

Anderson regained his usual posture and wandered over to Lestrade; standing behind him and gazing at his computer screen.

"Twitter _again_? My, my, you're getting quite addicted aren't you!" Lestrade scowled and said nothing, minimising the browser but not before Anderson spotted something.

"Another DM, Greggy? Who's that from then? You're secret admirer?" Anderson smirked. Lestrade, however, chose to ignore this comment.

"Haven't you got a Police Force's IQ to be lowering or something?"

Anderson hopped up onto Lestrade's desk and started swinging his legs back and forth.

"Nope, did that this morning" he replied jokingly. Lestrade sighed.

"You can get off my desk for a start," Anderson scowled, but obeyed, "Surely you've got some paperwork to complete from the case we just finished or something to do rather than annoy me,"

"Have you gone completely insane, Greg? We haven't even finished the present case yet."

"Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. It was solved."

"By who? Oh wait, let me guess. Was it boy-wonder by any chance?"

"If you're referring to Sherlock, then yes."

Anderson grunted in anger, "why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, Andy" Lestrade leaned back in his chair "When I think of important people that I need to tell when a case is closed, funnily enough, you don't come up,"

Anderson smiled sarcastically, "You know, these little chats that we have _always_ seem to cheer me up" he flashed Greg an unamused look and wandered back out.

"Always" Lestrade chuckled and got back to work.


	5. Chapter 5

I know this isn't the usual style of previous chapters but I wanted to mix it up a bit and get a few of the other characters involved.

Sorry it's taken me so long to put this one up on here and sorry the ending's a bit rushed and rubbish but hopefully you'll like it!

**Chapter 5**

Lestrade fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, subconsciously checking his watch as Detective Inspector Dimmock's voice droned on.

"We need to have results, and fast. The Superintendent's supposed to be visiting tomorrow and it'll be the firing line for us all if we've made no progress since last time." He paused, rubbing his temples as if stressed. Closing his eyes and pointing across at Lestrade, he said; "have your forensic boys managed to find anything else at the scene?"

Lestrade loosened his collar, looked around at the expectant faces staring at him and cleared his throat before speaking. "Well, um, we've put our best officers onto the case a-and they've been working very ha…"

Dimmock cut in. "Cut the crap, Gregory. What have you achieved?"

Lestrade swallowed before starting up again. "One of the officers that has been working intensively on the case was supposed to be at this meeting but he doesn't seem to be…" at that moment, the door swung open. All fifteen heads swivelled around to look upon the new comer; Anderson.

Anderson paused in the doorway, clutching a back pack with his hair ruffled messily. A ripple of laughter spread around the room as they caught the sight of Anderson's bare legs on display in tight cycling shorts.

"Uh…sorry, I'm late everyone…" he rushed in a sat down hurriedly next to Lestrade who was red with embarrassment. He leant over and whispered furiously into Anderson's ear;

"What the bloody Hell do you think you're playing at?" Anderson paused in dragging some files out of his bag before whispering back.

"The traffic was horrendous; sorry,"

"No, you idiot, I mean those shorts, why are you wearing them? And what happened to your hair? It looks like you've been dragged through a bush!"

"Oh, these?" he looks down at the shorts "I cycled into work today," he grinned proudly. Lestrade, however, was not so impressed.

"You're a bloody embarrassment; you know that right?" he whispered furiously as silence descended once more in the room; all eyes still on Anderson.

Dimmock folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Ahh, Andy. What a pleasure it is that you could take some time out of your _busy_ schedule to join us," laughter once more filled the room. "So, tell me. Have you been fulfilling your job as Lestrade's sniffer dog then?" he raised an eyebrow, questioningly.

Anderson, confused by the situation flashed a quick glance at Greg who mouthed "your forensic notes" back at him.

"Oh" he murmured in realisation and hurriedly delved into his bag and slid a pile of papers down the table to the head of it where Dimmock sat who retrieved them gratefully.

He flicked through them for a moment before releasing an uncontrollable roar of laughter. Other officers around the table looked at each other curiously and shrugged their shoulders before turning their gaze back onto Dimmock who, still, couldn't contain himself.

A couple of minutes later when Dimmock had calmed himself down, he flicked through the sheets once more which started him off again. Detective Inspector Carter who was sitting directly next to Dimmock snatched the papers away before following suit and bursting into fits of laughter.

Another few moments past before Carter composed himself and slid the papers back down to Anderson. "Wrong papers, mate" causing him and Dimmock to crack up again. Anderson repositioned the wad of paper and looked down at it, horrified. Lestrade peered over, curious to see what all the commotion was about before snatching up the piece on the top and staring down at the stick figures drawn on it. One was labelled 'Andy', one was labelled 'Greggy' and then other one was some sort of blob with legs labelled 'dinosaur'.

As soon as Anderson realised what they were he reached out and grabbed the sheet back and shoved the rest of them back into his bag but not before Greg realised what they were.

"Are these stories that you've been writing about..." he paused, utterly bewildered "…us?" Anderson flushed scarlet.

"Aww, little dreamer boy Andy!" Dimmock cut in still spluttering in laughter before continuing on, mimicking Anderson's voice, "Andy and Greggy find a dinosaur, Andy and Greggy adopt a dinosaur, Andy and Greggy look after the dinosaur…" he stopped as the room exploded into laughter once more.

Lestrade muttered angrily, "You are _so_ working overtime for the rest of your life"

Anderson swallowed nervously and fiddled with his hands in his laps. Then, a brief knocking was heard at the door before the receptionist poked her head in.

"Just a quick message for Mr Anderson, your bike's just been run over in the car park; it's completely ruined," This statement caused both Dimmock and Carter to fall into fits of laughter again.

Anderson sighed, "Great," as the receptionist exited once more.


	6. Chapter 6

Anderson slumped down into his seat, laying his forehead against the cold wood of the desk, groaning. At that precise moment, Lestrade strided in.  
>"Ahh, Andy. Good to see that you're bright and fresh for another full-working week." his voice dripping with sarcasm. Anderson kept his head glued to the table, mumbling<br>"Morning"  
>Lestrade sighed. "I'm paying you to work, not to mope about" he strolled over slamming down a pile of paperwork in front of Anderson. "I've got a meeting with the Superintendent this morning, fancy finishing these for me?"<br>"No," grunted Anderson  
>"Too bad," Lestrade smirked, "You are my sniffer dog after all,"<br>Anderson, not amused at all, lifted his head to deliver his response which was swiftly covered up by a roar of laughter produced by Lestrade. Anderson blinked wearily.  
>"What? What is it?"<br>Lestrade choked back another laugh "Oh...nothing..." he attempted to stifle a chuckle but failed.  
>"No, go on. What is it?" Anderson replied, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and his mouth creating a childish pout.<br>"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Lestrade asked, raising an eyebrow in an amused fashion. With this remark, Anderson slammed his face down onto the desk again.  
>"If this is another one of Sherlock's stupid jokes that he makes about my face then forget it. I'm not in the mood this morning"<br>"No, no" Lestrade spluttered "Your face is painted like a dinosaur" Anderson's head shot up and he raised his hands to his face, rubbing it and then looking at them before cursing and rooting around in the drawers of his desk for something to remove the paint. Lestrade couldn't help but laugh at how pathetic Anderson looked, he leaned against the door frame to the office an amused look playing upon his lips.  
>"Good job Sherly didn't see you like that; he'd have ripped the piss out of you"<br>"Oh shut up" Anderson snapped  
>"Someone's a bit touchy this morning, bad night?"<br>"Yes, not that it's any of your business" Anderson responded moodily, settling on a scrap piece of paper to remove the paint with. Lestrade sighed again.  
>"Please tell me you didn't get drunk last night. I still remember the last time you stumbled up to my house at three o'clock in the morning convinced that my fridge was a portal to Narnia" he shuddered at the memory. Anderson chose not to respond.<br>"I know your wife's left you but I never thought that you'd revert to painting yourself like a dinosaur!  
>Anderson flashed him a part angered, part confused look.<br>"And who told you?"  
>Lestrade raised his eyebrows.<br>"Do you really need to ask that question?"  
>"Oh, I should have guessed. Everyone's favourite psychopath."<br>Lestrade groaned.  
>"Why can't you both just get along like civilised adults? Oh, because Sherlock's not civilised and you're not an adult" Lestrade chuckled at his own joke.<br>Anderson opened his mouth in protest before closing it sharply when Lestrade motioned to the smudged dinosaur face-paint displayed on Anderson's face.  
>"Oh whatever" Anderson huffed "Don't you have that meeting to be preparing for?" Lestrade pushed himself off leaning against the door frame.<br>"Yes, and you have paperwork to be completing" he smiled sweetly as Anderson scowled. Lestrade disappeared out of the office calling behind him; "Have fun!"  
>Anderson muttered some more curse words under his breath as he frantically carried on scrubbing at his face with the piece of paper.<br>Lestrade's face appeared back at the door again. "Oh, and Andy...you missed a bit" he smirked and disappeared off down the corridor whistling merrily to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

"_Sorry it's taken me so long to upload the next instalment. Thank you to all who have read and reviewed – I'm genuinely so glad some people like the story! Sorry if in this chapter Anderson isn't up to his usual antics, it'll take me a bit of time to get back into the childish way his mind works._

_Anyway, enjoy! __"_

The door swung silently open and a masked being appeared in the gap. They appeared to peer through before nudging the door with their foot to widen the entrance. The figure ducked to the floor and rolled through the thresh-hold in a 'James Bond' style.

In the process, the intruder knocked the heavily littered desk situated in the middle of the room causing many of its objects to clatter to the ground along with the many folders of paperwork which slid onto the figure who let out a yelp.

On hearing the commotion, Lestrade strode into the office and flicked the light on with one swift motion.

"What the bloody Hell is going on in here?" He exclaimed, eyeing the mess as the masked burglar appeared and pulled off the balaclava currently concealing their face…

"Anderson…?" Lestrade started, this appearance evidently confusing him and it took him several moments to actually form a sentence that was vaguely comprehendible; "You…wha…what…are you doing?! You could have given me a heart attack, you buffoon!"

Anderson who, by this time, had managed to get to his feet and brush the sweat beading on his forehead from the current situation off with the back of his sleeve, looked sheepishly down at the carpet, shuffling uncomfortably. "I-I'm sorry, Greg. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Didn't mean to _scare _me? Anderson, you dressed all in black and then broke into my office, what emotion were you aiming to evoke?" Greg asks, his voice laced with sarcasm as his heart rate begins to return to normal. "Or, a better question would be _why_ are you dressed all in black and attempting to break into my office?" Lestrade's arms fold across his chest, a single brow rising quizzically as he continues to eye Anderson's embarrassed stature.

"I wanted to use your computer…" He mumbles, realising lying would be futile.

"My computer?" His brow furrows. "Why can't you use yours?"

"Sherlock thought it would be funny to get my computer to play the Barney the Dinosaur theme tune every time I press a button and I can't stop it" His hands creep to ears to cover them. "I can't get it out of my head!" Anderson shudders, staring unblinkingly as though in a trance.

"Tell him good work from me." Greg smirks. "Anyway, why do you want your computer? I thought you were going out on the case with Dimmock today?"

"I am" Anderson replies, twisting the recently removed balaclava in his hands. "I just wanted to quickly check my Twitter…" He continues, a blush arising in his cheeks as his voice tails off to silence.

"Oh, Anderson. Not this again." Greg shakes his head. "We're here to _work_. Not to socialise with the internet world. You're obsessed with it."

"Says you! You're the one who's constantly online. Always retweeting Sherlock's insults about me and favouriting John's pick-up lines to Sherlock. _You're _the obsessed one. Besides, you _never _retweet any of my tweets!" Anderson huffs, folding his arms over his chest like an irritable child. "Not to mention those mysterious direct messages you seem to keep receiving!"

At the mention of the 'secret messages', a slow smile threatens to upturn the corners of Greg's lips. "Keep your big beak out of things that don't concern you, Andy-Pandy." This statement causes Anderson to huff again. "You're lucky I'm not reporting you for breaking and entering." This time, Lestrade can't help but smirk, looking at Anderson like a parent would look at a misbehaving child.

"Sorry, Greg." Anderson mumbles, head lowered to look at the floor and his shoulders slump.

"Now, get the Hell out of my office." Greg began as he wanders round Anderson to take a seat on his plush office chair and prop his feet up upon the desk. As this happens, Anderson trails back towards the doorway, his bottom lip protruding to form a childish pout.

Just before he leaves, Anderson turns to face Lestrade once more who was now tapping vigorously away at his keyboard. "Greg…" He whines.

"What do you want, dino-boy?" Greg questions, sighing as he temporarily ceases his typing.

"Just one last thing...if I make you a cup of coffee, will you retweet one of _my _tweets?" A hint of desperation in his voice and his fingers cross themselves behind his back.

Lestrade opens his mouth as if to shoot back an order for Anderson to get out but then stops and pauses to consider this proposition before smirking again. "Deal."

At these words, a beam spreads the breadth of Anderson's face. "Oh, thank you, Greg."

"Milk no, no sugar. I wouldn't mind a biscuit or two either. Now, leave me in peace."

"Righty-ho!" Anderson performs a mock-salute in Lestrade's general direction before almost dancing out of the office but, instead, settling on a little jump and click of his heels for his own amusement as he does so.


	8. Chapter 8

"One completed case review, just like you asked…" Lestrade cleared his throat. "…Sir" Anderson added on to the end of his comment once the prompt had been delivered. "I haven't checked it through but I gave it my best shot."

"I'm sure you did, Andy" Greg muttered as he picked up the wad of paper and began to leaf through it, "I'm sure you did,"

"Does that mean…that I, uh, can take the rest of the afternoon off?" Anderson asked with a tone of desperation in his voice. Lestrade's head jerked up once the comment had been relayed.

"Afternoon off? Is that why you've been practically kissing my ass all day?" He eyed his colleague with a bemused expression, setting the report back down onto the wooden desk with a satisfying slap. "Why the longing for time off all of a sudden, hm?" Lestrade quizzed, switching his attention back towards his computer and beginning to tap nonchalantly away at the keyboard.

Anderson shrugged, beginning to fiddle with the lower hem of his shirt which hung outside of the waistband of his trousers. "Got things to do, you know how it is. Busy, busy, busy,"

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that the Jurassic Park convention is being held in London today, would it?" Greg's eyes raised to lock onto Anderson who continued to figet and flush a shade of light pink.

"No...of course not, what on earth gave you that idea…" He trailed off into silence, shuffling from one foot to the other like an anticipatory toddler.

"Because you've had it plastered across the Forensics office calendar for three months, Anderson" Realisation dawned on Anderson's face and he finally looked up to meet Greg's now amused expression. "I didn't get the job of Detective Inspector for nothing you know, Andy" The corners of Lestrade's lips upturned into a subtle smirk as he awaited his companion's response which came a considerable amount of time afterwards.

"…That quite possibly may be the reason, yes." Silence descended upon the room before Anderson's voice, with a renewed tone of desperation about it, piped up once more. "Oh please, Greg, let me go. I've wanted to go to this for ages, you know I have. I traded in my shifts and got all my work done on time just so I would have the chance to go." His bottom lip began to protrude, a signature move of his.

Upon hearing this supposed 'sob-story', Greg rose from his swivel- chair and proceeded around to the front of his desk, resting back against it and folding his arms as he stood now a metre or so away from Anderson. "Hm…I don't know, because, you know, I was actually planning on taking the afternoon off…" Greg replied casually, examining the back of his right hand – the comment sent Anderson into a spin.

"You're just saying that…aren't you? You wouldn't be taking today off. Today of all days. You're only saying that to wind me up, I know you are. Because…because…because that's the sort of thing you do, isn't it? Wind people up? Just by telling a joke…that was a joke, right? Please, God Almighty, tell me that was a joke…" He stopped, inhaling sharply as if to continue his meaningless babble but Lestrade stopped him with the quick raise of his hand. Silence, once more, fell upon the two men.

"Well, a very good 'friend' of mine managed to get myself two VIP tickets to the event, so yeah, I was considering taking the afternoon off."

Anderson's jaw dropped as he stared at his boss. "Not the Extra-Toothy Jurassi-Freebies Meet and Greet VIP Tickets?!" He exclaimed.

"I believe that's what they're called yes." Greg responded coolly, moving on to examine his other hand.

"But…how? They cost practically an arm and a leg!"

"Friends in high places, Andy." He shot back, an amused twinkle in his eye. "They're always handy…for a multitude of things." He added onto the end, his voice a fraction lower than before.

"So, are you going to go then?" Anderson asked, bottom lip having fully extended outwards now and eyes drooping in defeat.

"Of course not."

Anderson's ears pricked up, his whole being straightened out and his lip was reeled back in. "You're…not?"

"Didn't you hear me the first time? I wouldn't be caught dead at a dive like that,"

There was a pause, a single thought popped into Anderson's head – a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence, some would say.

"Not to be needy or anything, Greg, but could I possibly have one?"

There was another pause, the air filled with more tension this time around as Anderson eagerly awaited the response like a dog eagerly awaits a treat.

"You can have them both."

"Really? You mean that?" He said excitedly, having progressed from shuffling from foot to foot to practically hopping. Greg emitted a hum of confirmation.

"So long as you promise to bring me some sort of Greggs delicacy tomorrow morning, you can have the afternoon off _and _the two tickets,"

"Oh, Greg, you're the best!" Anderson beamed from ear-to-ear, clearly thrilled by the idea and, just as his emotions got the better of him, launched forward to embrace Greg. The embrace lasted no long than the beat of a heart before Anderson was pushed from the hug by Lestrade who once again displayed an amused expression.

"Go on, you git, get out of here before I change my mind."

Anderson beamed wider, mock saluting his boss before retreating from the office.

"Oh, and Anderson!"

"Yeah?" He poked his head through the threshold.

"Take Sally with you, why don't you. She looks like she needs…cheering up." Greg's smirk grew just a little at his own comment,.

"Aye, aye, cap'n" He returned, his beam still not fading.

"And do behave, Andy…I'm not just talking about at the convention, if you know what I mean," Greg winked, evidently finding the whole situation rather humorous though, at this point, nothing could dampen Anderson's spirits.

"Don't you worry, Gregory. Sally doesn't find anything dinosaur-related erotic – we've tried that route before, believe me."

With one last childish grin, Anderson lolloped off in search of his curly-haired companion.


	9. Chapter 9

It'd been three months, two weeks and five days since Anderson had been laid off – he'd been counting the months, weeks and days off with a tally's on a dinosaur notepad he'd bought himself as a cheering up present with the last of his wages.

He lay upon the sofa of his front room – the curtains were pulled, there were multiple used coffee cups and takeaway curry-stained containers littering the small, circular table in the centre of the room with the odd pizza box over spilling over onto the floor. The soft hum of Jurassic Park filled the air though Anderson lay face-up sprawled across the crumb-coated sofa with his eyes closed, lips mirroring every word the television emitted.

It was just another Sunday. Another Sunday of sleeping, eating and forgetting to shave. The fingertips of his right hand ghosted across his hair-covered chin and a proud, boyish smile became present on his face. Now that he had no actual work to focus on, his existence was, among other things, mainly spent on growing his thick, greying beard.

"I could join a beard convention…" He thought to himself, his smile staying prominent. "Or a dinosaur _slash_ beard convention…I wonder if those exist…" He continued to think to himself, twisting the odd strand of his facial hair around a finger. "If not, I shall set one up." He promised himself. "Dinotache or dinobeard or…oh, I know, moustachosaur." He finished proudly, the beam upon his face growing. Just as this happened, the credits began to role on the film and, without even hesitating, Anderson pressed the 'replay' button and settled back happily in the sofa for another 'viewing'.

However, across London the same emotion could not be shared…

It was five in the afternoon on a dreary Sunday afternoon. The rain beat rhythmically against the pane of Greg Lestrade's office window – the weather rather mirroring his mood.

"What do you mean he's in hospital?...Drugged him?...You can't be serious!" Greg let out an exasperated sigh.

"I need these tests run. Today. I need the DNA match, without it – we're screwed." He threw a single hand up in resignation, as if the person on the other line would somehow be able to understand his fury by hand gestures they were unable to witness.

There was a long pause from Greg as the voice the other end jabbered quickly – during which time, Lestrade leant forward in his chair and used the hand, previously used for dramatic emphasis, to rub at his left temple, as if to reduce stress.

"Yes, I understand he's difficult to work with but he's never tried to _drug_ any one before…Jesus Christ…isn't there anyone else there with you? No forensic officers _at all?_" Lestrade paused as the answer to his question was delivered. "I don't believe this," He muttered, the rhythmic circles his fingers making upon his temple gradually getting quicker. "I told you before, this cannot wait until Monday. The Chief wants this done and dusted by nine at the very latest…there's no one left here that can do it; it's a Sunday evening for goodness sake – why can't one of you just stand in and work the equipment just for today?" Again, Lestrade paused, waiting for an answer.

When he did get one, it was obvious it wasn't the one he wanted and he sighed dejectedly – leaning back in his chair which creaked disconcertingly.

"Fine. You leave me no choice – I'll have a replacement there by six." And with that, he rung off, placing the office phone back heavily into the holder with a satisfying smack.

Silence filled the office apart from the tap-tap-tap of the rain against the window. After the moment or two that Lestrade took to dig out his mobile phone from the pocket of his suit jacket, he pressed a few buttons and then raised the device to his ear – the dialling tone sounded and he took a deep composing breath as he waited for an answer.

Anderson was just dozing off into a light sleep, a gentle snore drowning out the noise of the third repeat of Jurassic Park on the television when the muffled sound of Wannabe by Spice Girls began playing out nearby. The sound awoke Anderson with a start and he stuck his arm under the pillows and swiped around in an attempt to find the cause of the noise – his phone. Just as Mel C started her post-chorus solo line, Anderson managed to retrieve his phone and answer the call.

"Hello?"

"Anderson?" Came the voice from the other end.

"Speaking…" Anderson replied with a slighty confused tone to his voice. "Who's this?"

"It's Greg – listen, there's been a little mishap at one of the scenes today. To cut a long story short, Sherlock thought it would be a good idea to try out a little…_experiment_ on one of the forensics guys by seeing if the effects of entering the 'K hole' of Ketamine were as good as the effect you get from Valium." Lestrade's voice was tense and he barely paused for breath as he delivered the explanation, clearly in a hurry. "All the other forensics guys at the Yard have gone home for the day and none of those tools at the scene can stand in for him, so, what I'm basically saying is…will you come?"

As soon as the name 'Greg' was uttered down the receiver, Anderson bolted up to a sitting position, brushing the fresh crumbs from the last pack of custard creams he'd polished off from his beard – a reflex action to smarten himself up when hearing the voice of his boss…_ex_-boss. Anderson remained silent for a moment, comprehending the words he'd just heard.

"…Sorry?"

Greg made a sound of infuriation on the other end of the line. "Look, Anderson, I don't have time for this – can you come down to the scene and help an old friend out or what?"

"An…old…_friend_?" Anderson quizzed in disbelief. "Three months, Greg, that's how long it's been. Three months of repeated showings of Walking With Dinosaurs, train rides to Leeds for the Spice World exhibition at the museum and trips to Knebworth Gardens_, _not that I'm complaining of course, but _now_ you decide to call me?" There was a pause on Lestrade's end.

"Knebworth Gardens? What the bloody Hell were you doing there? You're not eighty, Anderson."

"They have a very good dinosaur trail there _actually_." Anderson stated, matter-of-factly. "Not that you'd know of course, every time I offered to let you come, you made up some lame excuse about a 'date' or some rubbish."

"It was the truth, for your information. And besides, the dinosaur trail is for about five yea-…actually, you know what, I really don't have time for this. I apologise for not getting in contact with you sooner but you know what the Superintendent said after your hearing; he didn't want you to keep coming into the office dressed in your Geri Halliwell union jack dress with dinosaur decorated cupcakes in an a bid to get your job back and, I thought that ringing you all of the time might just make it difficult for you to keep away."

Now, it was Anderson's turn to pause and consider what Greg was saying. When he did break the silence, his voice was a little quieter and less uptight.

"…I suppose that makes sense."

"Now that we've got the niceties out of the way, will you please get your ass to Lewisham? Come on, Anderson? I'm pretty desperate."

"Alright, alright." Anderson said, rising from the settee and balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he searched around for his shoes and pulled them on, quickly lacing them up. "I'll come," He said with attempted irritation in his voice though his lips displayed a wide smile. Lestrade heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank you for this,"

"…On one condition,"

Lestrade sucked in breath again, wary of the sort of 'conditions' that Anderson usually came up with.

"Go on…"

"The next time I do go to Knebworth, that you come with me and we do the dinosaur trail together – deal?"

Lestrade rolled his eyes, settling back in the seat and kicking his legs up to settle upon the desk.

"Fine…deal." He said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice as he spoke.

"Great!" Came Anderson's reply from the other end of the line along with rustling as he pulled on his rain jacket.

"Oh, and one more thing, don't tell the chief about this, will you? I'm not really meant to let non-Scotland Yard employees to undertake a role like this but…you're a special case. Besides, this is just a one off – you hear me? This doesn't mean I'm giving you your job back."

"I hear you loud and clear, Greg." Anderson replied merrily – nothing, not even the rain, was going to dampen his mood.

"That's Inspector Lestrade to you." Lestrade said with a sly smirk.

"Of course, sorry..." Anderson commented, his tone matching that of Greg's. "…Sir." And he hung up.


	10. Chapter 10

"I want to thank you for letting me on that case week last week, Greg" Anderson said through a mouthful of hot coffee currently burning his mouth – after swallowing and flapping around a bit in the pain caused by the boiling beverage, he continued. "It really gave me a motivational boost to get back in the Forensics game, you know?" He proceeded to take another sip of coffee and repeat the earlier actions.

Greg sat across from him in the bustling London café the pair were 'enjoying' each other's company in, an amused expression sculpting his face.

"It's not a problem, Andy…or is it Phil now?" Anderson scowled, Lestrade continued; "Just remember it was only a one off thing this time. But, yes. It was nice to have your face back annoying people at crime scenes."

"Oh, very funny. Thinking of becoming a stand-up comedian or something?"

Lestrade shrugged in good humour. "It's a possibility,"

"Or maybe you should just become a serial tweeter from the amount of time you seem to spend on that stupid website." Anderson finished with a huff and extravagant gesticulation towards the notification having just popped up on Greg's phone which lay face up on the table. Lestrade quickly reached for the phone and turned it over but not before taking a quick glance at the person causing the notification and allowing a smile to ripple across his face.

"You're only jealous because I have more followers than you."

"That is not tr-…"Anderson tailed off to silence, eyebrows drawing together to form a childish frown. "Besides!" He continued quickly, keen not to linger on the point of his failure at gaining lots of members for 'Anderson's Army'; "I don't see how you've got so many, you must have had some help. And, from my reckoning, it's got something to do with those continual direct messages that you keep smirking at."

At this final comment, Greg's cheeks flared up into an uncharacteristic blush and quickly reached for his mug to raise it to his lips as though that would provide some sort of cover for his face.

"_And_ from that silence, I do believe I'm somewhat correct." Anderson stated with a proud grin, straightening his non-existent tie. "Just call me the next freak, why don't you."

"You're already a freak, Andy."

"Rude."

"Truth." Greg shot back, clearing his throat and regaining his stride after having been knocked sideways by Anderson's supposed 'revelation'. "Have you ever thought that you may have a lack of members for 'Anderson's Army' simply because people don't want to be part of your little freak show of a club?"

Anderson sat back in his chair, eyebrows drawn together again but this time in intense contemplation, as though he was actually considering Greg's proposition.

"Maybe you should just call it 'Phil's Pillocks'." Greg laughed heartily at his own joke, slapping his thigh as he continued to laugh although Anderson failed to see the funny-side and remained with a sour expression upon his face.

"Again with the supposedly humorous comments, really, Greg?"

"Really." Lestrade replied before taking a sip of his coffee and settling back into his seat with a satisfied sigh. "You know, it's not just your face that I've not just missed."

There was a pause.

"…What else have you missed?" Anderson asked, sitting up just a bit, his joined hands resting against the top of the table.

There was another pause. Anderson continued to look at Lestrade who leisurely sipped at his drink before slowly setting it down on the table, the clinking sound of the china connecting with the table initiating his next line.

"…Winding you up." Lestrade finally finished with a grin, retrieving his mug again and draining the last drabs of his drink before returning his cup to the table once more and rising from his seat. "Had you there, didn't I? You thought I was going to say something deep and meaningful." He chuckled, shrugging his jacket on over his broad shoulders.

"'Course not." Anderson huffed, staying seated and continuing to clutch at his half-drunk cup of coffee.

"Well, this catch up has all been very nice but…places to go, people to see. Busy, busy, busy."

Anderson frowned, pushing up the sleeve of his jacket and rotated his wrist to look upon his watch. "You're going back to work at four thirty on a Saturday? Since when did you ever do that?"

Lestrade cleared his throat, stealing a quick glance at his phone which caused him to smile again before smoothing down the sleeves of his jacket. "Who said anything about going back to the office?"

"I presumed that seeing as your life outside of work is almost non-existent that it would most likely be that."

"Well, it looks like you're wrong, Andy-pandy. Maybe stick to the forensics in the future as opposed to the detecting." Greg chuckled again, hands now moving to smooth down his hair before extending one towards Anderson. "Until next time, eh?"

Anderson reached to grasp hold of Greg's hand, pulling a face at the gel lingering upon Greg's hand after touching his hair…far more gel than usual.

"It better be soon. Perhaps our next meet up will be our trip to Knebworth Gardens which you still owe me."

"Come on, Anderson, I thought that was just a joke. We're not five years old."

"You promised me and therefore I'm keeping you to it. And that's final." Anderson stated with a satisfied nod to which Greg just rolled his eyes.

The pair finally released hands and Greg parted with one final farewell nod.

"Have fun!" Anderson turned to call after him once Greg was almost engulfed by the coffee shop queue and swept out the door.

"Oh, I'm sure I will." Greg responded with another grin before disappearing from the shop and out of Anderson's sight.


	11. Chapter 11

"Bugger!" Anderson cursed as another branch threatened to take his eye out but soon hushed himself through not wanting to reveal his hiding place; the shrubbery on the side of a path leading up to a house – a posh house at that.

Anderson had spent the morning disguised in his funeral suit and Geri Halliwell wig outside of Scotland Yard waiting for Greg. He glanced at himself in the hallway mirror before he left the house; covert wasn't his forte he concluded but shrugged it off and left.

He may not have been a detective, but Anderson wasn't stupid. "Right from when Greg got that Twitter account of his, he's had a non-stop grin on his face, has always had a place to be _and _not even beginning to mention his ton of followers" Anderson thought bitterly to himself as he withdrew a pair of binoculars from the inside pocket of his blazer. "Greg doesn't have _that_ many friends" He pressed the binoculars to his eyes and pushed aside a few of the branches of the bush he was currently located in order to try and get a glimpse in through the window of the building and, more importantly, of Greg.

Greg had left the office at just gone four; just after afternoon coffee and doughnuts time – Anderson knew the office timetable like the back of his hand. However, Greg didn't make his usual beeline for the pub except disappeared into a car waiting at the kerb at the bottom of the steps of the building. Before entering the car, a large smile was prominent on Greg's face – this enough was a cause for concern for Anderson.

Greg…happy…at…work…Alarm bells started to ring – as well as the bell on his bike as Anderson mounted his bike and began to follow the car concealing Greg. Despite losing his job, his redundancy money had stretched as far as buying himself a new bicycle after the unfortunate 'accident' in the office car park with his last one. But, it wasn't all doom and gloom; this one had dinosaur handle bars.

After tailing the car for what felt like an eternity and spending the majority of the ride with one hand clinging onto his prized-wig, the swanky black car came to a halt outside of the building which Anderson was hiding outside now. Anderson peddled up the street just in time to see the non-descript chauffeur get out and open the door for Greg before they both proceeded up to the house together. Anderson chained his bike up to a nearby lamppost and crept towards the building which he had just seen his former boss enter. That's how he had ended up here, getting pricked and stabbed from all angles due to the bush.

"Stupid thing…" Anderson cursed again, batting more leaves and twigs out of his line of vision. How long he had been crouching in his hiding place, he couldn't tell, but, going by the dimming daylight, it had been a while. Despite this – and his growing need for the toilet – he continued to rock back and forth on his heels, humming some Spice Girls song or another whilst twisting the artificial hair of the wig around his forefinger. Just then, the door of the house opened – Anderson's heart leapt. Finally, he was going to begin to piece together Lestrade's strange behaviours.

All that was visible at that time, were the trouser legs of two individuals lingering in the threshold of the building. Anderson carefully rolled forward so his chest was flat on the ground – temporarily pausing in consideration of whether the mud would come out of his suit in time for his Great Aunt Julie's funeral in a few weeks time before dismissing the thought and continuing. His view remained largely unchanged apart from getting a smashing view of the individuals' trousered upper-thighs as well as their lower legs.

But, just before Anderson was going to sigh in annoyance for having to use extra and unnecessary Ariel Actilift on the mud for no good reason, the pair began to make their way slowly down the few steps to bring them level with the street and, therefore, make their conversation heard to Anderson.

"Are you sure you don't want the car?" A precise, over-pronounced and almost snobbish, voice said – one Anderson did not recognise.

"I told you, the tube will be fine. I don't want to cause you any hassle," A voice Anderson recognised to be Greg's replied.

"It's no hassle at all; it is what Giles is paid to do after all." The mystery man replied.

"Really, it's not a problem. A little wander will be nice." Greg responded which caused Anderson to internally snort; "since when did Greg willingly undertake any form of exercise other than the office's doughnut challenge?" he thought to himself.

"Well, if you're sure, Gregory."

"I am sure, but thank you for the offer – and thank you for your company this afternoon."

"The pleasure was all mine, it really was."

The was a pause, one which Anderson presumed was filled with a handshake but couldn't be too sure due to not only the bush blocking his view, but also the wig sliding down his forehead – the artificial hair beginning to tickle his nose.

"Let me know when you're next free and I'll send Giles over again." The unknown voice said.

"I couldn't take advantage of your hospitality again; it'll be my treat next time." Greg replied.

"I'll look forward to it." There was another pause and, in desperation, Anderson began to edge towards the feet in order to try and get a glimpse up through the branches of Greg's company. However, the movement caused the wig to slip further into his line of vision and agitate his nose even more. Then, disaster struck.

He could feel a sneeze brewing.

Panic started to overcome him as the pair continued to exchange niceties and edge further down the path. Anderson quietly tried to push the wig back from his face and pinch his nose in order to try and prevent the sneeze. But, instead, he just sped up the inevitable. After a moment, Anderson's whole body lurched forward as he emitted a large sneeze which caused the wig to slip back over his face again.

There was silence, the pair had stopped talking. For one heart stopping moment, Anderson managed to kid himself that they might not have heard and they were just exchanging another hand shake.

But that fantasy was short-lived.

Moments later, there came a rustling from above his head and the branches of the bush were parted. Anderson twisted his head to look up at his discoverers; Greg's face loomed down over him. Anderson's eyes went wide with terror and attempted to push the wig back further in order to allow him his full vision back again. But, as he did so, he was able to see the second face which joined Greg's in the gap in the branches. He gasped…no. No, it couldn't be…

Mycroft Holmes.


End file.
